


Secrets Secrets Are No Fun, Secrets Secrets Hurt Someone

by Rambert



Series: Battle Scars [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Tragedy, Arguing, Blood and Gore, Boone POV, Caesar's Legion, Canonical Character Death, Child Murder, Crying, Cussing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dead People, Distrust, Doomed Timelines, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, False Accusations, Gender-Neutral Courier (Fallout), Goodbyes, Head Injury, Hostage Situations, I swear I don't want to torture Boone I just want to Explore These Emotions, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Killing, Mental Anguish, Mercy Killing, Military Backstory, Mojave Wasteland (Fallout), Murder, Night Terrors, Novac (Fallout), Plans to commit suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Secrets, Snipers, Spoilers, Strained Friendships, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships, Unintentional Weight Loss, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vomiting, War, War Crimes, also Carla just gets a raw deal in this game and my fic doesn't fix that sorry, digging a grave, no beta I die like Legion when Boone's around, referenced Legion slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rambert/pseuds/Rambert
Summary: TW: suicidal ideation.Boone isn't dealing with his demons well at all. [canon spoilers for Boone's companion questline]
Relationships: Carla Boone/Craig Boone
Series: Battle Scars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207373
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had these rarepairs all planned for International Fanworks Day and then this just shidded out my fingertips instead.
> 
> Also to clear things up this is NOT intended as a prequel or connecting story to my series "the radicalization of Craig Boone", and the Courier who will show up later on in this one will not be Elliott Casey but a different Courier character.
> 
> Please mind all tags and archive warnings before reading, thanks!

_"Fire on the camps, repeat-- fire on the camps now!"_

_"But Captain--"_

_"I said **fire** , soldiers, that's an order!!" _

Boone woke up in a cold sweat hearing screams and sniper rifle gunfire in his ears. His head was pounding and he was nauseous, and he barely made it out of bed and to the bathroom before retching.

Nothing was even coming up any more because he'd already puked twice before bed, but the dry heaves were still fucking miserable as he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

He'd dreamed of Bitter fucking Springs again... even the drinking couldn't make the nightmares go away completely.

Could he even call something a 'nightmare' when it had been real?

"Craig?" Carla's sleep-rasped voice called out from the bed. "Are you sick?"

Boone didn't bother responding, not wanting to be cussed out for getting too drunk again.

He just sat there crouched over the toilet until the worst of the nausea passed, then stood up on shaky legs and brushed his teeth in the sink. He wanted to drink some water, but was worried he might just throw it right back up.

"Craig, are you okay?" Carla asked as he returned to bed. "Did you get sick again?"

"Just tired," Boone lied, and Carla huffed in annoyance.

"I heard you brush your teeth Craig, why are you lying to me?"

"I'm _tired_ Carla," Boone growled in a belligerent tone, and Carla rolled over away from him.

"Fine, let's just go back to sleep then."

And she did... but Boone just laid there and watched her back slowly rise and fall as she slept.

\--

Up in the sniper's nest, Boone scanned the Eastern horizon across the 95 through Dinky's large metal teeth.

Today had been nothing short of hell. He'd started making breakfast for Carla while exhausted and still quite hungover, but she'd heckled him anyway.

He couldn't ever do anything right with her lately it seemed. Especially since Carla's pregnancy was advancing to the point where her body was giving her more intense side effects, all of which she'd blamed exclusively on him-- not like he could even really argue the truth of that one though.

But she wouldn't even let him convince her to name the baby Carla if it was a girl, saying that was "weird and borderline narcissism"-- but Boone's sister was named after their mother and he was named after his great-grandfather, who had passed down the name through all his sons. It wasn't weird to him.

And this morning, while he was still raw from that nightmare, Carla had brought up the unthinkable.

"Craig," she'd started, and Boone's fight-or-flight response had kicked in from her tone.

It was so... _sensitive_.

"Is there anything you'd like to... tell me, about your past? Something that might be giving you night terrors, or-- PTSD?"

"What the fuck are you talking about," Boone had muttered, tensing up where he stood at the stove.

"I talked with Manny last night about-- your time in the NCR together. Actually, it was more like an argument... you know how I can be with your soldier friends," she'd admitted, and that was putting it mildly.

"But he said that he's been worried about you lately too, so I asked why, and he-- eventually told me that you served somewhere that had an... incident that went badly."

Boone's blood froze. _No, no, no._

Carla was still talking but he could barely hear her over his panicked mantra.

"Said maybe you'd tell me about it if I asked you, and that maybe you could use some help dealing with-- what happened."

He could never tell Carla about this; he'd vowed to himself to never breathe one word about it to _anyone_ who wasn't already NCR in the know-- Manny, Ranger Andy, and a few others. They knew better than to ever bring it up. How could Manny betray him like this?!

"Whatever you heard about, we are not discussing it," Boone had said firmly, making Carla scowl.

"Craig, Manny and I are _both_ worried about your drinking! It's getting out of hand, and you barely sleep-- I see the bags under your eyes! How much longer are you going to live in your own personal hell while avoiding those who want to help you?"

"You _can't_ help me, you have no fucking _idea_ what I've been through," Boone had snarled, smelling smoke and noticing too late that the eggs he'd started were burning in the pan right in front of him because he hadn't been stirring them.

"Fuck!" He'd tossed the still-steaming pan into the sink and ran cold water over the blackened yet still-runny eggs.

Boone should maybe have been concerned about Carla's lack of a reaction, but... this wasn't the first or even the fifth time he'd ruined breakfast this way since they'd moved to Novac three months ago. He'd gotten real good at scrubbing out this pan.

"You're right. I don't have any idea, because you never fucking _talk_ about it."

Carla's voice was low and defeated as she'd looked at the table instead of at her husband.

"I've tried being polite about this but I'm... at a loss. It's been months of this now. If you won't even _try_ to get help for whatever it is that's clearly bothering you... I'm not staying here, Craig."

Boone stared down at the wet eggs sloshing around in the water-filled pan, and when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything Carla sighed.

"I'm tired of this. If you won't listen to your wife or best friend, then I don't think you'll be listening to anyone. And I won't just... sit here and watch you self-destruct."

Those words from the morning's fight rattled around in Boone's mind as he watched the road in the hot Mojave night.

A vicious part of his brain was saying _yes, good, push them away-- it's what you deserve after all. You're a monster_.

But then the part of his brain that still remembered how Carla used to laugh and smile at him not that long ago pushed back: _No. You have time to fix this. You love her, and she loves you._

Lately though that love felt harder and harder to reach. Boone knew he wasn't making it any easier on them, but still.

He was so fucking _tired_. Hadn't been able to sleep properly since Bitter Springs, honestly-- at first he'd done nothing _but_ sleep, then the night terrors had started only a couple weeks later.

After that he'd been avoiding sleep as much as possible.

Honestly, Bitter Springs had just been the tipping point-- the final act of state-sponsored violence that Boone's inner conscience could no longer rationalize, even to himself. Previous to that post he'd been given orders as a sniper that other people would pale at, to mercy-kill prisoners of war that had been strung up on crosses by Legion but who weren't actually dead yet.

But the more Boone thought about it, the more he wondered if it wasn't the orders given by the NCR that really got those soldiers killed-- if it wasn't _him_ responsible for those deaths after all for pulling the trigger.

Because it had felt the same... shooting down those Khan civilians had felt the same as shooting his own. It had felt wrong. It had felt monstrously wrong.

Boone didn't know how to tell _anyone_ how wrong it felt.

\--

Two days later, things had calmed down some. Boone had cut back on drinking and had simply resigned himself to being awake all night, and past a certain point the sleeplessness gave way to a sort of hysterical hope which his weary mind seized onto. A hope that he could be happy again.

Last night, he'd managed to keep Carla in a good enough mood that she got to talking about her old life the way she used to often-- her life before she'd met Boone, from growing up in California. Just a little rolled up Coyote tobacco in a fresh cigarette and Carla would be stoked into chatting for hours; that was the way Boone liked it.

When Carla got to talking about her old friends and family and neighbors and co-workers, all he had to do was show interest in what she was saying and she'd just keep going in that pretty voice of hers like the nicest radio program. He could absorb all that useless information and forget about the NCR and what he'd had to do in their name.

He also wasn't quite so sick now from reducing his drinking, and Carla was far enough along that her pregnancy nausea had mostly subsided. So for once neither one of them had to get up to puke in the night.

Boone still didn't sleep, but he felt calmer than usual watching Carla's back rise and fall from her even breaths next to him. He didn't know how to explain anything about Bitter Springs to her, but... maybe she would just let it go like she had the first time she'd asked about his service in the NCR. He certainly hoped she would.

When dawn was edging into the room under the curtains, instead of getting up to shave like he usually did he rolled over towards Carla and gently reached for her shoulder.

"Mmm," she sighed, leaning back into him as he pressed close. "G'morning, handsome."

"Morning, beautiful," he murmured into the back of her neck. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine... you?" she asked, tilting her head and opening her gorgeous green eyes to look up at him.

"Fine," he said, wanting it to be true in the moment-- did that still make it a lie if it wasn't, though?

"Hm. Guess I'll take your word for it," she said before leaning in to softly kiss him.

Boone almost instinctively reached for the baby bump as Carla slowly rolled over towards him while they kissed; then a moment later he felt something under his hand.

"Ooh, did you feel that kick?" Carla cooed, grinning, and Boone let out the closest sound he'd made to laughing in months.

"Yeah."

They looked at each other in the morning quiet, and Boone knew that he should say something. Anything. But no words came. He was too tired to navigate the minefield of Carla's reactions... so it was better to say nothing.

"Craig..." Carla's expression was sad now as she looked down at Boone's hand on her stomach, and his own stomach clenched-- somehow, without having to directly say anything, he knew what she was thinking about.

It's not like they'd actually resolved the situation after all.

"I want us to be a happy family together. I love you," she said, with such an earnest tone that it broke Boone's heart that he had to keep this awful secret from her.

"I love you too," he said back truthfully, but she shook her head and avoided his gaze.

"That's... not enough any more," she said, her voice suddenly thick like she was close to tears.

"It's not-- enough that you love me, Craig. I don't want to-- to bring a child into this world under the same roof as you when you vacillate between drinking yourself sick or never sleeping for days on end. Don't you want to be healthy for your child, Craig? If you can't do it for yourself or for me... then please, do it for the baby."

Boone felt like his lungs had been pierced, like he couldn't draw a proper breath in.

"You don't understand, Carla," he started, but Carla sighed.

"You _always_ say that Craig. Of course that'll be true as long as you keep whatever this is bottled up!"

"It's bottled up for a _reason_ goddammit, why won't you let this go?" Boone said, beginning to get angry now.

Why couldn't they have just had a nice peaceful morning together without fighting? He was so _tired_.

"Let it go?! Craig, you've aged ten years in the one we've been married," Carla snapped as she stood up and got dressed.

"You've got purple circles under your eyes from not sleeping and your eyes are bloodshot from drinking. You've lost weight and you've got lines on your face that have only intensified. _Something_ is literally killing you Craig, and if you won't let me help you then--"

"Then what," Boone growled dangerously from the bed, not looking up at her.

"Then I'm going back to New Vegas where you met me," Carla said in irritation as she pulled out a suitcase and began to pack it up with some of her clothing.

"Carla, goddammit, you just said you loved me and you want this family to be happy. Why the fuck would you leave if that's true?" Boone asked in exasperation.

"Because this child deserves a father who won't run himself into the ground," Carla said in a low voice.

"I'm not going to be one of _those_ mothers, Craig. I won't let you turn on me. You'll never get the benefit of the doubt from me with that nasty drinking habit-- either you address it now or I'm gone. I'm serious."

"Wow, so you really think I'm going to beat you huh?" Boone was almost too shocked to feel wretched.

"How am I supposed to know, when you won't _tell me_ what's bothering you!" Carla cried-- and she was actually crying now.

"Do you have any idea how much it scares me, how much it _hurts_ that you can't even be honest with me about your past?! I'm your _wife_!"

"You never asked before we got married. I would have told you the same goddamn thing," Boone said stubbornly.

"...Fine then." Carla's voice was hollow as she went back to packing with tears still spilling down her cheeks.

"Make it my fault, Craig, that's just-- really great of you. Justify yourself however you need to."

Boone scowled, feeling surly and wanting to hurt her back the way her words had just hurt him. A wave of anger coursed through him and he spoke before thinking better of it.

"Need help packing?" he said nastily, and then immediately felt a knife of guilt in his guts when Carla flinched.

"S-so that's really it," she whispered, clasping the suitcase shut with shaking hands. "W-well then."

"...Carla, I'm sorry," Boone said, a few moments too late. "That was fucked up what I said. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she said, in somewhat of a daze. "It _was_ fucked up. I'm gonna-- go."

"Carla, please, don't. Please, I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything--"

"Then _tell me_ what happened to you Boone." The look Carla was giving him was nothing short of desperate.

And still, the thought of telling her what he'd done at Bitter Springs nearly made his heart stop.

"Carla, I _can't,_ I can't do that, I've told you it's not something I can ever discuss--"

"Get away from me," Carla said in a dangerous tone as he stepped close to her. "Don't _touch_ me Craig. We're through."

"Carla!" Boone called her name helplessly but she'd shut the door on him.

His wife went to Jeannie May's office and got herself her own room for the day. There was a caravan here in town tonight that was leaving first thing tomorrow, but clearly Carla didn't want anything to do with Boone until then; she'd gone inside the rented room and locked the door, refusing to answer when he tried to talk to her.

When Boone showed up to the nest to swap places with Manny that night, his best friend grimaced.

"Yikes, Boone, you look like shit man. I... I heard about Carla," he said apologetically, as gossip spread like wildfire in this tiny town.

"Yeah? You're the one who told her about Bitter Springs," Boone said aggressively, baring his teeth, and Manny held up his hands.

"Hey man, I didn't say shit except that you went through something fucked-up in your service-- and you _did_! Maybe it's time you stopped denying it and got some help. I'd even do it with you," Manny said. "God knows I've got skeletons in my own closet I could use help dealing with."

"And who would we 'get help' from out here, hm?" Boone asked, his tone nastily sarcastic.

"I don't know man, but you're a fucking mess," Manny said while giving Boone a harsh once-over.

"You're so sloppy you're hardly fit to even guard this nowhere town, let alone re-enlist."

"Take that back," Boone growled defensively.

"Why, dude? You fucking reek."

And Boone had to admit that a whole flask of whiskey was probably too drunk to be in a sniper's nest.

"Go back to your room," Manny insisted. "I'll stay here tonight. But tomorrow, we're going to talk about getting some actual help. Agreed?"

"Fine," Boone sighed, nodding reluctantly before going back downstairs.

Stomping back across the courtyard with his head down and shoulders hunched, Boone almost didn't notice Carla standing in front of their door.

"Carla," he said abruptly as he startled, noticing her at the last second.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" she asked.

"Manny told me to take the night off," Boone said, and added "I... thought you didn't want to be around here tonight."

"You owe Jeannie May a thank-you," Carla replied in a brittle voice.

"She convinced me to give you one more shot at working things out before the caravan leaves tomorrow. So, I'm deciding to take the refund and advice she offered me."

"...I'll thank her in the morning," Boone said, not sure whether to be relieved yet or not. "Does that... mean you're staying here then?"

"Yes," Carla sighed. "But I'm serious about leaving tomorrow if you won't talk to me, Boone."

"I'll talk," Boone said quickly, fast enough that Carla raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"We'll see about that," she said as she opened the door for them.

\--

He'd told her _almost_ everything.

Once Boone had admitted to being drunk (and apologized for it), he'd told Carla about the NCR forcing him to mercy-kill their own men. He was vague enough with the location details that he let Carla think this was the big confession, and when she'd asked if Manny had to do this too it wasn't even a lie to say yes.

It _was_ a lie to let her think that this was what was torturing him the most though, but at least it was somewhat of a weight off Boone's chest and Carla had seemed satisfied with the explanation.

"You aren't a murderer," she'd reassured him as they'd cuddled close on the bed like they'd used to.

"The Legion was going to kill those captured soldiers anyways. You were just following orders."

"Yeah well, I'm not a soldier any more. Those rules don't seem like much of an excuse now."

"Craig, it's punishment enough to have to live with what you've done," Carla had said. "Those soldiers knew the risk on the battlefield just like you did. You've got to stop torturing yourself for this."

 _Would you say all this if you knew about Bitter Springs, too?_ Boone had thought miserably.

He wanted to tell her, he really did. But he just couldn't. Not now. Maybe one day after the baby was born... he should at least take care of her until then.

"Thank you for telling me," Carla had whispered, her own face wet with tears while Boone's eyes had stayed dry.

She'd done her best to comfort him, but... she couldn't. How could she? He hadn't told her everything.

And though they'd gone to bed together, Boone had woken up after only a couple of hours in a cold sweat-- another nightmare about gunning down Khan civilians, some of them children.

Luckily he wasn't too hungover, but he still felt like crap and knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. He got up and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, making sure to take some Rad-X first.

Carla looked so peaceful in the bed, and he almost got back into it with her just to lay there and enjoy her closeness, but... he felt like a fraud. She trusted him, and he'd betrayed her trust to hide his monstrous true nature from her. She deserved to be with someone better than him.

Carla was right about one thing, though she didn't even know the real reason why-- what right did he have to become a father?

First Recon had destroyed whole families that day. What gave Boone the entitlement to have a family of his own after that? Even if he never beat Carla, he was a monster already from what he'd done. How did he possibly think he could move on from this?

And Boone couldn't avoid thinking that even _if_ he managed to tell Carla one day... then he'd also have to tell this child. That thought made his insides go cold.

How the hell would he ever be able to do that? What if they hated him as soon as they were old enough to understand the gravity of Bitter Springs? They'd be better off not knowing him at all.

It'd probably be better off for everyone if Boone just suicided on some Legionaries.

Boone got dressed as quietly as he could manage, his feet taking him up to the sniper's nest.

"Boone? What are you doing back up here?" Manny asked, frowning at his friend.

"Came back for the rest of my shift. I'm sober now, got some rest, and-- talked things out with Carla."

"Oh _really_. So you've agreed to get help then? And she knows about Bitter Springs?"

"Keep your fucking voice down," Boone growled, and Manny shook his head.

"Man, I knew you didn't tell her. What, did you lie and make shit up?"

"No, I told her about the mercy-killings we've had to do. That was traumatic enough for her to accept as the reason I'm not sleeping well."

"Wow, lying to your own wife," Manny whistled. "That's a new low even for you, bro."

Boone scowled despite his friend being right. "Shut up. You want me to take over the rest of my shift or not?"

"Hey, I won't say no to getting to bed after a... fourteen hour shift," Manny said as he checked his watch.

"But I'm serious about getting help: we are _going_ to have a conversation about it tomorrow. I'll drag your ass all the way up to Freeside if I have to."

"Yeah yeah," Boone called as his friend started down the steps.

Tomorrow was a few more hours away... he could avoid thinking about what exactly "getting help" would entail for a little while longer.

The night crawled by, and Boone slumped back against the wall of Dinky's mouth as he decided to just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Dawn was already near, if the pinkish glow on the horizon was anything to go by, and he was _so_ tired.

Besides, nothing had happened in this sleepy little town for months now; there hadn't been any violent incidents since before he and Carla had arrived. This place felt safer than most... and he'd finally worked things out with Carla, for now.

The full truth would come later but, for now Boone felt like he could relax. For just a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Carla lol. You really deserve better hon but I'm not the one to give it to you cuz I'm MLM garbage.
> 
> updates to this might be slow but any and all feedback is welcome! I'm trying really hard to make this one worthy of the canon compliant tag :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: murder, gore and death / dead bodies , suicidal ideation
> 
> this chapter begins just a couple of hours after the previous one ended, in case that wasn't clear

"Carla's-- missing? Are you sure she's really gone?"

Boone did not like the almost _eager_ expression he was seeing on Manny's face; he'd come to his old friend first in a time of crisis and _this_ was the reaction he got?

"Yes I'm fucking sure, she's not in our room."

It was jarring even just to say the words, especially after Boone had thought he'd smoothed things over with her... which made him suspect that she hadn't _chosen_ to leave at all.

"Well-- maybe she's just around town, or--"

"Did a perimeter check before I knocked on your door," Boone interrupted, feeling twitchy. "I've asked at the McBrides and Gibson's already and nobody's seen her today."

"She's... really gone, isn't she," Manny said in a surprise that sounded all too pleasant.

Why are you looking so damn happy about it?" Boone growled, and Manny shook his head and held up his hands.

"No, man, c'mon, you know it's not like that--"

"Do I?!" Boone was feeling more than a little wild right now from his panic over Carla, and Manny's borderline _excitement_ seemed suspicious as hell to him.

"Jesus, Craig," Manny exhaled, his eyes widening. "You really think _I_ had something to do with it? After all we've been through together?"

"Then why'd you have that reaction to me telling you?" Boone spat back defensively, and Manny sighed.

"Look, I'm fuckin' human okay? I never liked Carla and she didn't like me, you know that. We never kept that a secret from you. Maybe you should try not keeping so many damn secrets," he muttered bitterly, and Boone had had enough.

"Carla is _gone_ ," he shouted, startling Manny. "And if you don't want to help me look for her then I've got nothing left to say to you."

"Go look by your fucking self bro. She probably left your miserable ass and went with that caravan back to New Vegas after all," Manny said in disgust while folding his arms.

"How _dare_ you," Boone started, ready to fight from all the adrenaline pumping through him at finding an empty room-- but Manny was already walking away, talking over his shoulder as he crossed the courtyard to Dinky.

"Whatever you've done with my best friend, he ain't around any more. You've _been_ gone, Boone, so go. Go find your precious wife."

And the desire to fight left him as soon as Boone realized that every second wasted put Carla further away from him. The panic that rushed in to fill the yawning void left by the anger was debilitating.

At a loss for what to do next, Boone found himself in the hotel lobby asking Jeannie May of all people for help finding Carla.

He'd just thanked her this morning after his shift, for talking to Carla on his behalf yesterday. Then he'd discovered a few minutes later that his wife was missing. The passage of time seemed unreal right now; he couldn't believe that he'd been here in a completely different mood such a short while ago.

Jeannie May still seemed perhaps _too_ cheerful in Boone's opinion, immediately offering to help search the room for clues of a struggle, but at least she was helping. Unlike his supposed "best friend". Boone told himself he was being too harsh on her based off Manny's suspicious reaction and fought down his skeptical bitterness.

"You didn't-- happen to see if she might have left with the Caravan?" he asked with difficulty around the lump in his throat, wondering if maybe Manny was right about where Carla had gone.

"No, dearie, I'm sorry. When you came to see me this morning I'd only just arrived at the hotel for the day, I got a late start today," Jeannie May said, but she clucked her tongue sympathetically.

"You know who we could ask though..."

They talked to No-Bark Noonan to inquire if he'd seen anything last night, and through his incomprehensible gibberish the old man said he'd seen "Molerat men" take someone from the hotel.

"I thought it was cannibals, come to eat us all for sure, so I kept out of sight. But now I know better," No-Bark said with a sage nod.

Boone's stomach clenched as his worst fears were confirmed, and he let Jeannie May lead him away by the elbow while No-Bark was continuing to ramble on.

"He saw Legionaries, didn't he," Boone said while staggering back to the hotel in a disbelieving daze.

"I'm so sorry dearie," she said, and suggested that he ask Ranger Andy for help contacting the NCR. "Maybe they could send some soldiers out to look for the bastards with you."

But even with Ranger Andy letting Boone use the radio to ask, no one who answered could seem to be bothered to send any help. And he didn't get many answers.

"Sorry kid. You know I'd go with you if I was stronger," Ranger Andy said quietly, and Boone shook his head.

"Not your fault, Andy. Thank you for being more help than any of the rest of the NCR." Ranger Andy had also given him a ranger's map, one that was far more detailed and accurately scaled than the one he'd been issued for First Recon.

"Don't you worry about leaving, Craig, Novac will survive without you. Go and find her."

And he really tried, dammit.

Boone wandered aimlessly for almost a full day before picking up the trail the Legion had left-- it was heading South of course, towards the abandoned Searchlight Airport. Cottonwood Cove was the biggest Legion base this side of the Colorado; though he desperately hoped to meet up with them before that point, Boone knew Carla would likely be taken there.

He was grateful for the months of inadvertent training to function on no sleep, because now he barely noticed it as his stress kept him going despite the grueling pace of his travel over the next two days. Steering clear of the NCR stationed near Searchlight, Boone didn't even bother asking them for help-- they had enough to deal with being stationed next to a radiated pit full of feral ghouls and radscorpions.

Maybe, Boone thought, if he reached Carla fast enough, he could rescue her before she was taken to the Fort. He had enough ammo to take down dozens of Legionaries. It was this thought that kept him going through the dangerous terrain. He began to bargain with God, or whoever was listening, that he'd tell Carla the full truth of Bitter Springs if he was able to rescue her. Even if she left him for it.

But it was still too late by the time he found her.

There were easily hundreds of Legion soldiers swarming Cottonwood Cove, grouping up hostages and chaining them together like they were animals to be herded instead of human beings.

Boone used to be of the opinion that no human being would abuse their own this way, that Legion was truly monsters masquerading as men... but that had been before Bitter Springs. Now, he realized he was more like them than he wanted to admit.

Still, as he watched the Legion auction off people to be enslaved in broad daylight, Boone wanted so badly to murder every single one of the soldiers himself. Some of the people being sold off were children... it was disgusting.

Then Boone's heart thumped painfully as he saw her through his scope at last. Carla.

She was crying, her tears tracking through the dirt on her face. Her hair was tangled and her clothes were filthy and ripped. Like all the other hostages, she was wearing a giant steel collar that was blinking ominously: Boone felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he remembered hearing about the explosive slave collars Legion used.

There were too many of them... he wouldn't have enough ammunition to take out enough Legionaries before they inevitably began to kill hostages or swarmed his position, and Boone's insides froze as he watched his wife knowing she couldn't see him or be aware of his presence. Would Carla be happy that he'd made it this far to find her, or angry that he was too cowardly to do what he'd promised when the situation had changed?

Then with a sinking feeling he realized that the groups were being led onto boats one by one. Even if he'd had explosives and more ammunition, he didn't have time to set up any maneuvers. He'd taken too long to get here, and now Carla was going to be taken into slavery if he didn't do something.

But what could he do?

 _Take the shot_ , his mind whispered wretchedly, and Carla's face blurred in front of him. Boone wiped at his eyes roughly, warring with himself in the few moments of hesitation he had left.

_No. There must be another way. I could steal one of their boats and follow them--_

_And get into the Fort as one person?!_

His doubting voice won out of course. How could he, a lone sniper under-armed, think to take on the entirety of Fortification Hill when he couldn't even take out this force at Cottonwood Cove on his own?

That baby didn't deserve the life that it would live there. Carla didn't either. And if Carla hadn't seen the mercy-killings as wrong, well... maybe she would understand Boone for this. Maybe, he thought wildly, she was hoping he'd do it now before things got any worse for her.

 _I'm so sorry, Carla,_ he thought miserably as he watched her trembling and watched her mouth move, probably as she was cussing-- she looked equal parts terrified and pissed off, and he'd never loved her more than in this moment. Even facing down utter hell, she had not yet broken.

But Boone was about to break himself in an effort to save that beautiful and resilient spirit.

"I'm sorry Carla, I love you," he whispered aloud before he squeezed the trigger.

Her head knocked back from the impact and his aim hadn't failed him; she immediately collapsed and the other hostages chained to her began to visibly panic-- probably thinking it had been Legion who killed her.

Even though it was incredibly dangerous, Boone waited and watched, unable to leave his wife's body. He didn't care if he was caught, any more. He deserved to die too, and he was a coward for not just bleeding out his ammunition to take out as many Legionaries as he could before they overtook him.

But they didn't go searching for whoever had clearly shot one of the hostages; Boone watched them look around suspiciously before shrugging and insisting via gestures that getting the rest onto the boats was more important.

They left Carla's body where it lay, taking off the perverse collar at last to disconnect her from the chain when her hostage group departed-- but now it was far too late.

And the baby would die too... even if there was a nearby doctor who would treat NCR citizens, it was still months too early for a healthy delivery. Boone had just murdered his entire family.

Hours later, Cottonwood Cove was much quieter at nightfall as only a few soldiers were left patrolling; the majority had left with the enslaved hostages to go upriver.

Boone's body was stiff and in pain from sitting still for so long, but he couldn't leave his position. He couldn't leave Carla. And when he saw two Legion soldiers kicking at her, prodding at her baby bump... he lost it, and sniped them both before he could even think about it.

Now there were three bodies where there had been one. Boone watched and waited for a minute to make sure that he hadn't missed another patroller, but then he realized he had to act soon if he wanted to retrieve Carla's body before the guard shifts switched.

With shaking fingers Boone disassembled and put away his rifle stand and slung his gun onto his back, running up towards Carla and collapsing on his knees in front of her.

"I'm so sorry Carla," he said in a choked voice, his insides wrenching as he saw the hole he'd blown in her face.

Boone was no stranger to death, but this was grotesque even for a soldier... but here he was. He pulled her to him, barely having the strength to lift her with the way he'd been running on fumes for months.

He didn't make it far either, getting so winded he nearly passed out. Then he realized that she'd bled all over him and he barely was able to set her down and step away before he puked.

It took him until dawn to half-carry, half-drag her body far enough away out of Legion territory that he could find a safe place to bury her that wouldn't be disturbed by their patrols. He owed her that much at least, since he'd utterly failed at protecting her or rescuing her.

He didn't have the physical strength to dig her grave right away, falling asleep next to her from sheer exhaustion when he'd found a secluded spot. Waking up like that later on was... horrifying, to put it mildly.

The past few days had been nothing short of a waking nightmare, getting worse and worse, and Boone desperately hoped he was hallucinating as he reached to shake his dead wife's corpse, recoiling when a few flies were dislodged from inside the gaping wound in her head.

"It's a dream," he murmured in feverish disbelief, shaking his head harder and slapping himself, but Carla was still dead and the memories of killing her persisted.

Eventually the disbelief gave way to a sickening grief, and Boone cried like he had _never_ cried before as he dug her grave. Thankfully he had scouted a truly remote location because the noises he made carried farther than he knew. He sobbed until his lungs felt like they would give out on him, puking again but continuing on with the digging right after. He couldn't take any more breaks in this process, not now. Especially not because the going was so slow when all he had to dig with was his knife and bare hands.

The longer he stayed here the closer he was actually getting to madness, and Craig was somewhat relieved when he was finally piling the dirt and rocks on top of Carla's corpse. He still was crying, but he no longer felt like his brain was unraveling. But it didn't make this any easier, and the memories of how his dead wife had looked would haunt him for the rest of his days.

When he'd calmed down from the hysterical crying enough to speak, Craig verbalized everything he wished he'd told Carla while she'd been alive. As he sat by her grave, grimy and defeated, he spoke in a low whisper about Bitter Springs, and about every regret he'd had from how he'd treated her during their relationship.

If he'd been hoping for some kind of catharsis, the lonely howl of the wind through the canyon above him was little solace. But Craig stayed there through the night, sleeping next to the grave and waking the next morning feeling a hundred years older.

"I'll always love you, Carla," he said as he laid a hand on the fresh dirt of the grave.

"I'm so sorry. Whatever comes after this life, I know I'll pay for what I've done. I just hope you're in a place without any suffering... the baby, too."

He reached into his pack then, pulling out a folded piece of paper labeled "For Carla" on the outside. Boone folded it up a few more times until it was as small as it could be, then pushed it down into the loose dirt and covered it over with a few more handfuls.

It was a simple note that he'd written in a fit of pique after they'd had an argument about what to name the baby. It all seemed so trivial now, but Boone couldn't bring himself to throw the note away, and he had nothing else to put on the grave that would be meaningful anyway.

"Goodbye, Carla," he whispered before leaving, knowing he would never see this place again.

Craig Boone returned to Novac three days later a grim, cold shell of a man. He'd attempted to return Ranger Andy's map, but the old man had insisted that he keep it. He'd offered to talk to Boone and hear out his troubles, but Boone had refused.

No one deserved to be burdened with the traumas he'd inflicted upon himself, and it was easier to just let everyone think that Carla was still a captive of the Legion rather than the truth.

Manny had attempted to talk to him, to apologize for not helping search for Carla, but Boone had given him the silent treatment until Manny gave up trying to communicate.

At this point, Boone was convinced _someone_ had sold Novac out to Legion and had used Carla as collateral. He couldn't prove anything yet, but he was going to figure this out very soon. And when Boone found out the truth he would have no mercy.

Once he'd given payback to the son of a bitch who'd sold his wife to Legion, Boone fully intended to suicide on Legionaries down at Cottonwood Cove, or however far he could get towards the Fort. It would only be fitting considering he no longer wanted to live... but he would seek this one final revenge first.

So Boone bided his time, knowing that whoever had assisted Manny would show their ugly faces soon enough. Whoever set Carla up to be taken was going to _pay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the Fallout wiki pages for helping me keep everything accurate and consistent. I've removed the "canon compliant" tag though, since I have still already tweaked a couple of little things by accident that I'm not going to edit out, and also plan to change a few things intentionally going forward. I always struggle with keeping this tag on, sigh... 
> 
> Also if you're worried about Boone too readily accusing Manny, remember this is what the canon gives us lol. His realization is coming, trust me ;) Jeannie May is genuinely The Worst and I can't wait to write her getting murdered next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: murder, dead body, suicidal ideation again with more concrete plans to commit suicide near the end.
> 
> If the dialogue in this chapter sounds awkward it's because I'm trying to work in a lot of the real lines, but god the dialogue writing for One For My Baby is just awful. Conceptually Boone and his quests are so compelling but the actual written details give us garbage. Why would Boone give his First Recon beret to a random stranger he'd just met? Makes no sense to me lol so I changed it. I've removed the Canon Compliant tag so all bets are off now ahah. I also made the Bill of Sale an actual physical note instead of a holotape, because Boone says "paperwork" so I got confused and I'm not going to go back and change it now lol.
> 
> Also Lilith (my Courier) is non-binary and it's Just Not A Big Deal At All.

Ghouls had started to wander out of REPCONN again.

Manny and Boone had been warned about them when they'd first moved here, hearing stories from the elders of Novac about how they'd scared away all the prospectors, but there hadn't been any for months until just recently. Now they were appearing in twos and threes at least once a day, and at sporadic times that were impossible to predict.

Boone had been beginning to wonder why this sleepy little town wanted to shell out for constant sniper watch when an NCR-filled power plant was just down the road, but now he understood as he picked off yet another ghoul duo with ease from the tower as they stumbled onto the 95. He kept his rifle pointed North now.

The ghouls posed little threat from up in the sniper's perch, but Boone knew those ferals could get real nasty up close... some of the stories that Ranger Andy had told him a while back about the early days of Novac had been pretty gruesome.

An hour later Boone saw a person walking North on the highway in the dark, and he startled as he recognized the mismatched armor set of the stranger who had come through town this morning. A private courier.

Boone had heard them talking to Manny outside his room after the shift change, eavesdropping with little difficulty: the hotel walls were paper thin. This was why everyone had always known about his fights with Carla immediately as they were happening.

The courier had asked Manny a question about someone they were looking for, and Manny had said that he would help them out if they helped him by clearing the ghouls out of REPCONN.

Boone had thought privately that Manny had one hell of a nerve asking for that level of a favor just for a piece of info, but he also had no good reason to trust this stranger either: for all Boone knew, this person could be partially or entirely responsible for Carla's kidnapping. They could be working for Manny in secret, pretending to be an outsider...

Still though, as he watched the courier through his scope Boone found it difficult to believe that someone would go through all this trouble of investigating a ghoul-infested facility just to give themselves an alibi. Perhaps they were really just a stranger looking for information, unafraid of the challenge necessary to obtain it.

The courier disappeared from view as they turned to veer off the 95 and go down the access road to REPCONN, and Boone sighed as he refocused his attention elsewhere. Not that doing so was a great plan these days, only reminding him of the agony of his current existence.

Boone didn't sleep at all now unless he was so drunk that he'd wake up only a few hours later to vomit. He barely ate, and the only reason he wasn't wasting away was his ritualistic daily exercises that he'd forced himself to do after he was barely able to get himself home from Cottonwood Cove in one piece.

He forced his eyes to stay closed as he laid in bed during the day, so that he could keep them sharper for his shifts, but he hadn't gotten any real sleep since spending the night at Carla's grave. Even going to bed drunk, the dreams of Carla speaking to him out of the gaping hole in her head would make him wake up screaming; Boone would thrash out of tangled sheets sweaty and nauseous and wanting to just swallow a bullet to get away from it all.

But the cold, razor-sharp desire for vengeance was a pull he could not resist, and Boone had a feeling things were about to change around here very soon. That courier was the first person besides a caravan to have come through Novac in months.

The rest of the night passed slowly-- there was a loud boom at one point, sounding like a rocket launching, but Boone couldn't see anything from his perch. By dawn he was stiff and sore from having to stay on high alert, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. Bright pink sunlight peeked over the eastern horizon.

He heard voices from down in the courtyard and swiveled his rifle's sight to see. Manny stood in his doorway talking to the courier in pajamas; they'd woken him up in their haste to deliver the good news about REPCONN it seemed. At least Boone assumed it was good news; the stranger certainly looked more disheveled than before, their combat helmet dented and spattered with... _something_ , but they were still here and breathing which seemed victorious in itself.

Boone couldn't make out what they were saying from up in his perch, but then he frowned as he realized the courier was walking towards the Dinosaur. Cliff wasn't up and in the Dino Bite Gift Shop yet, it was too early... so what was the stranger doing?

When he heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards him Boone tensed, his body going into fight or flight mode. He backed up as much as he could and aimed his rifle at the door, so that when the courier opened it they startled and took a step back.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to aim that thing at the road?" they asked with a weak chuckle.

"Hey. You. You wandered into town recently right," Boone said, phrasing it more like a statement than a question as he kept his rifle in the same position.

"...Yeah, I did. Name's Lilith," the courier said, holding out a gloved hand to shake and waiting several moments before awkwardly lowering it when it became clear Boone wasn't going to take it.

"What are you doing up here?" Boone asked bluntly, not swayed by the pleasantries, although he did vaguely remember that Lilith was an old Biblical name.

Wasn't Lilith a devil or something? Boone didn't quite know. But it was an ominous-sounding name for sure, fitting for an ominously-dressed courier wearing a huge buttonless trenchcoat over bulky armor.

How could they stand being so layered up like that in the desert heat? Boone didn't even wear his First Recon armor any more, only the beret and his regular fatigues. He felt like he was suffocating in armor... probably because the last time he'd worn his First Recon set had been Bitter Springs.

"Just looking around," Lilith said with a shrug, and Boone didn't believe them.

"There's nothing up here," he snapped, feeling antsy the longer he wasn't focusing on the road.

"There's a sniper," Lilith said with a coy smirk, and Boone scowled.

"You shouldn't be here. I think you'd better leave."

"You treat all newcomers to town this way?" Lilith asked, sounding a little irritated now as the smirk faded and a hard line between their eyebrows appeared.

And Boone suddenly realized that whatever this courier's agenda, they wouldn't speak to him this way if they were working with Manny or Legion. Lilith was looking right past Boone's drawn gun and into his face, unafraid of him, seeming to be sizing him up and knowing that he was a man on the edge.

There was a time when that sort of flippant bravado would have pissed him off, but now Boone really _was_ a man on the edge. Maybe this courier could help him after all... at this point Boone was desperate enough to risk it.

After a few tense seconds of silence Lilith scoffed from a lack of reply, and had started to turn around before Boone found himself speaking to stop them.

"Wait. You just got into town. Maybe you shouldn't go... not just yet."

"Oh, well then, I'll stay _just_ for you," Lilith said, infusing the words with so much sarcasm that it nearly felt like a physical slap across Boone's face.

But he did feel a little guilty for how harsh he'd been coming off, and despite his pride wanting to retaliate Boone bit back the nasty retort already forming. He took a deep breath and attempted to start over again.

"I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger. That's a start."

"You only trust strangers?" Lilith shot back with a raised eyebrow, their arms folding across their chest in a clear posture of disbelief.

"I said it was a start," Boone growled, but he lowered his weapon at last. "This town... nobody looks at me straight in the eye any more."

"And what exactly do you want _me_ to do about that?" Lilith asked slowly, not bothering to hide the skepticism in the question, and Boone didn't take it personally at this point... he knew he probably appeared unhinged.

If the night terrors he'd been having were any indication, Boone _was_ becoming unhinged.

"I want you to find something out for me," he said, his voice unconsciously lowering. "I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try."

Boone stared off into the distance on the 95 because he was unable to look Lilith in the eyes, taking a slow shuddering breath before continuing.

"My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don't know who."

Even though he was pretty sure he _did_ know who, but he didn't have any proof yet... and although he still couldn't look at Manny without hating his guts nowadays Boone still wouldn't murder his ex-best friend without any hard evidence. That would really make him no better than Legion.

"...You're trying to track down your wife?" Lilith asked after a moment, and Boone's jaw clenched.

"My wife's dead," he ground out through gritted teeth, the words barely above a whisper. "I want the son of a bitch who sold her."

"How do you know your wife is dead?" Lilith pressed on, and Boone was ready to be _done_ with this topic before his brain was overwhelmed with more memories of Carla's disfigured face.

"I _know_ , all right? And that's all you need to know," he said bitterly in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Okay, sorry I asked," Lilith said, sounding genuinely contrite enough that Boone made a "hm" of acknowledgement before continuing.

"This conversation stays between us," he said quietly. "No one in town knows that I know what happened to my wife. Best they never know, or the Legion will be after me next."

Not that Boone particularly cared at this point whether he had to track Legion down, or vice versa... but he didn't want them killing him _before_ he found proof of who had sold out Carla.

Lilith nodded seriously, and Boone felt a bit relieved watching their steely blue-grey eyes harden.

"Legion killed my friends," Lilith said, the hatred in their words palpable. "I'll help you."

Boone nodded back just as seriously. While it was unfortunate that they were bonding over trauma, it did make Boone feel like he could trust Lilith's motivations... the pain in their eyes was real. Grief couldn't be faked even by the best charmer.

"I'll pay you for whatever you can find as evidence," Boone said, knowing he only had a few hundred caps to his name but willing to part with all of it for this-- he wouldn't need it where he was going after, anyway.

"But we shouldn't speak again until you've got something. Don't come to my room either-- meet me up here. I work nights."

"Sure. ...Do I get to know your name?" Lilith asked hesitantly, and Boone sighed.

"It's Boone. Craig Boone, formerly First Recon." Remembering that Lilith had attempted a handshake earlier, he reluctantly held his hand out in initiation to show that there was no hard feelings from his end.

"You can call me Lil, and I'm formerly of the Mojave Express myself," Lilith said as they shook Boone's hand, the glove softer than he'd anticipated and the warmth lingering even after they let go.

"Just one more question: what pronouns do you use?"

"...What? I'm a dude," Boone said indignantly, confused as Lilith sighed in a long-suffering manner.

" _My_ pronouns are she/her or they/them. As in, 'That's Lilith, she's helping me out,' or 'Their name is Lil.' So what are yours, Boone?" she asked again, digging in with her inflection as if to say, _why don't you get this._

"...Him, I guess," Boone said after a moment of thought, stumbling only a little over concepts he'd rarely had to actually focus on before. "Or he. That's it, I think."

"Cool," Lilith said, smiling for the first time that Boone had seen-- it was quite a disarming smile, almost as dazzlingly pretty as Carla's.

For a moment, Boone let himself be dazed by being able to think of Carla's beautiful face smiling at him again, rather than the horrific versions of her that he'd been unable to stop seeing since her death. If nothing else, the courier had already given him this.

"...Well, I won't keep you any longer. I'll see you around Boone." Lilith waved as they turned to go, and Boone lifted his hand in an awkward wave back.

"See you, Lil."

\--

The next couple of days dragged on; Boone had already been drinking less due to wanting to stay sharp for ghoul-hunting, but now he wanted to be able to monitor the situation with Lilith at full capacity.

Well, as "full capacity" as he could be with his debilitating insomnia, but. Boone couldn't do much about that. He'd even tried some Med-X to numb himself up before sleeping, and _still_ woke up nauseous from a night terror a few hours later. Sleeping through the night just wasn't possible for him any more, and probably never would be for the (hopefully short) rest of his miserable life.

Now that the ghouls weren't a problem any more, the nights passed painfully slowly up in the nest. Boone had only been able to hold onto the memories of Carla smiling and laughing for a few hours; now the haunting, gory corpse was back behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, and Boone felt ill.

He didn't have any photographs to remember her by, as photos were somewhat of a rarity in the Mojave these days. Carla had spoken of wanting to get a photo done for their wedding, but they'd run out of time to find a photographer and Boone hadn't worried about it. Now, he sorely wished he would have tried harder to get one.

He just wanted to remember his wife as the beautiful person she'd been, rather than allow his brain to re-traumatize him every single hour with flashing up her bloody blasted-open face. Boone knew he didn't deserve peace or rest from what he'd done, but... he just wanted it all to be over. He wanted to find out who had sold Carla so he could kill them and then himself. Every day was agony at this point and he was so very tired of living.

Manny had tried to talk to him yesterday for the first time since Boone had come back. They'd passed each other on the Dinosaur steps as they always did for the shift change, but Manny had stopped in front of him and wouldn't let Boone pass.

"I know you've got that courier asking around on your behalf about who sold Carla out," he'd said, and Boone had tensed, his hand ready to go to his knife.

"...Jesus, man, really? I see you itching for your knife there," Manny had sighed, looking almost as tired as Boone felt.

"I just wanted to say that I support you doing that, and I-- wanted to see if I could help in any way."

Boone had shook his head, not wanting to talk to Manny ever again if possible. How could Boone trust him after he'd been so _happy_ about Carla being gone?

"Really? Still?" Manny had sighed in defeated exasperation. "Boone, I'm _sorry_. I should never have told you to fuck off like that when you needed help looking for Carla and I regret it every day now. How many times do I gotta apologize to you?"

 _You'd like me to believe you aren't the one who sold her out, wouldn't you,_ Boone had thought bitterly, and he'd shoved past Manny despite the other man's protests.

"H-hey! You're really going to walk away from me _again_?"

 _Yes_ , Boone had thought in a vindictive temper as he slammed the door of the Dino Bite and stomped down the remaining outdoor steps, crossing the courtyard quickly and locking his room door behind him.

His memory of the previous night was interrupted now by the door to the perch opening; Boone whirled around and scowled at the courier-- he'd been so engrossed in thought that he hadn't heard their footsteps on the stairs.

"Goddamit, don't sneak up on me like that," he hissed, and Lilith raised their hands.

"Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to get up here without anyone else hearing me clank up those stairs," she explained quickly, and now Boone noticed she was holding a piece of paper in one hand.

"Here," Lilith said as they handed it over, and Boone felt his chest drumming and realized he was holding his breath.

Forcing himself to exhale and inhale as he unfolded it, Boone's insides churned as he read over the Bill of Sale, seeing quickly that _Jeannie May_ of all people had ransomed off his entire goddamned family to Legion for a measly fifteen hundred-- wait, no, only a thousand caps.

_Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document._

Fucking horrific. His family had been sold to Legion for not even enough caps to get onto the Strip.

Boone felt sick for ever trusting Jeannie May, realizing immediately that the reason Carla had been convinced to return back to their room in the first place on that fateful night was just so she'd be in the pre-planned position for the Legion to take her.

 _Damn_ that foul woman!

"Jeannie May," he growled aloud, crumpling the note in his hand as hatred burned hot inside him like a furnace.

"...You didn't know it was her, then?" Lilith asked, and Boone shook his head.

"No, I-- thought it was someone else," he said, the words feeling clunky in his mouth.

Now all the interactions he'd had with Manny recently were taunting him, _you sick bastard, how could you suspect your best friend like that?!_

Lilith's words cut through Boone's mental hurricane. "What are you going to do now?"

"Kill her," Boone said in a dangerous tone, and Lilith nodded.

"I'm with you, but-- do you think Novac will go hostile against you?"

"No," Boone answered honestly, thinking of Ranger Andy and all the other people sympathetic to Carla going missing. "And at this point I don't really care. She deserves to die."

"Well, I support you. Just let me know what I can do."

"She trusts you," Boone said as he looked Lilith in the eyes. "I need you to get her to walk out in front of the Dinosaur with you. Do it at dawn before my shift is over. Make sure you lead her outside the courtyard so no one will see the body."

He didn't want to wait any longer than necessary to put a bullet in her, but waiting until morning would mean the lighting would be better for the shot.

"All right," Lilith said with a nod. "She's usually back in the lobby by six-thirty. I'll try to get her out in front of you before seven."

"I'll be ready."

And he was. As he stood up there, reading and re-reading the note that some Legion bastard had left with Jeannie May, Boone regretted ever moving to this damned town. It had been Manny's idea to try out Novac, and Boone had obliviously agreed without thinking enough about the dangers of being far away from big NCR strongholds.

Not that Manny could have possibly known this would happen either though... and now Boone felt wretched for ever suspecting his friend.

The Bill of Sale had stated it so coldly and crisply: _We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford of the township of Novac the_ _exclusive_ _rights to ownership and sale..._

He'd have to apologize to Manny before-- well, before saying goodbye forever.

As the night began to fade into morning Boone fired off a few shots just to test his aim against the current wind, wanting to make sure he was sharp for this because he'd only get one chance to catch Jeannie May off-guard. He didn't want to risk her screaming and the whole town waking up to her being shot at before he could explain himself...

Checking his watch compulsively, Boone began to fidget as he waited. He was impatient to get this over with, his body _eager_ to kill in a way he hadn't been since basic training. And he _knew_ that this person deserved to die, with a certainty he'd only ever felt while taking out Legionaries.

Finally, at 6:56, Boone spotted them. The courier Lilith walked with her head high, her expression stern yet determined as she led Mrs. Crawford into position. Jeannie May looked tired, which was good-- she didn't appear to suspect anything yet.

It was time once again for Boone to be the last thing someone never saw.

This time, he didn't feel sick or scared or helpless. He felt like he had a _purpose_ for the first time in so damn long. His finger itched over the trigger as he lined Jeannie May's head up in his sights and waited for her to stand still.

Take a breath... steady... aim...

Fire.

Jeannie May Crawford crumpled in a heap, dead before she even hit the ground. But as Boone stared down at the corpse through his scope, he didn't feel pleased. Or even accomplished.

He felt empty.

Lilith helped him dispose of the body, dragging it across the highway and down into a ditch for the coyotes to pick at. As they walked back to town, she asked Boone what he was going to do now.

"I don't know. I won't be staying, I know that," he said slowly.

The courier looked at him sideways, curious.

"Don't see much point in anything right now except hunting Legionaries," Boone sighed, staring off South down the 95.

"Maybe I'll wander, like you." _Maybe I'll clear out Cottonwood Cove before they take me down._

They hadn't made any response other than a "hm" in the moment, but later in Boone's room after he'd paid her all his caps the courier Lilith looked him in the eyes.

"Come with me. Let's go after Legion."

"You don't want to do that," he said automatically, even if those words Lilith had just said excited him in an almost inappropriate way.

After more than a year of the apathy of Novac, an apathy that seemed to have taken hold of Manny too, Boone felt something stir in his chest at the way he saw those stormy eyes go turbulent when Lilith had said "Let's go after Legion."

Like they really _wanted_ to, not just doing it because the NCR or whoever else said to.

"I thought snipers worked in teams," Lilith said knowingly, and Boone made a low noise in his throat as he had to agree with her there.

"Hnh. Yeah. Working on your own, you're a lot less effective. I've been there and paid for it," he admitted, and Lilith nodded.

"But this isn't gonna end well," he added, then felt his stomach flip pleasantly when Lilith smirked.

"For the Legion, sure. But you and me are gonna get along _just_ fine."

And somehow, without having any real reason to, he believed her.

Maybe this was what he was meant to do after all, Boone mused as he packed his things in his room and prepared to leave Novac forever. Maybe this courier was the one who was destined to bring him to his doom, since Lilith had also been the one to give him the clarity on the event that had ruined his life.

Now was the hardest part though... Boone felt his feet weigh him down like boulders as he dragged himself to Manny up in the nest that afternoon. He never did this, so of course Manny had his arms folded and a scowl on his face by the time Boone got up there and opened the door.

"Took you long enough to clomp up here, thanks for giving me a headache," he said crossly. "What's your deal today? It's not even time to switch shifts."

Boone deserved that he supposed, and he took a slow breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry, Manny."

The shock on his best friend's face made it impossible to continue, and Boone shook his head and thrust the crumpled Bill of Sale into Manny's hand.

"What the--" Manny looked at the note in confusion for a while before actually processing what it said, and his face was aghast with horror by the time he'd finished reading.

"Christ," he breathed, and Boone nodded.

"Does Jeannie May know that you've found this?" Manny asked.

"Jeannie May is dead," Boone blurted out, and Manny's eyes widened but not in horror.

"You took care of it that fast? Where's the body?"

"East of the highway now. ...I'm sorry," Boone said again, not trusting himself to be verbose at the moment. "I was wrong to ever suspect you."

"...Yeah, you were," Manny said defensively, and Boone felt like shit as he stared at the floor.

"But... I get it," Manny sighed. "I really do. Although you got some serious making-up to me to do."

Boone didn't know what to say to that. 'Sorry, I pledged my allegiance to a vengeful courier'? Yikes.

"...Geez, Craig, I was _kidding_ but you could have at least played along for a sec," Manny said after a few tense moments of silence, sounding so defeated that Boone felt worse for not being able to talk to people properly any more even when he was trying.

"I'm sorry," Boone tried again, and his best friend cringed.

"Please stop that," Manny said, visibly uncomfortable, and now Boone regretted coming up here in the first place.

"I'm-- leaving town tonight," he said, not liking how Manny stumbled as if physically struck as soon as the words left his mouth.

"...What?"

"With the courier."

"... _Oh_."

"It's not like that," Boone said quickly, and Manny gave a choked sort of laugh.

"Sure it's not. I um. I'm happy for you man, but if you're gonna leave tonight I'm gonna need the rest of today off," Manny said, his voice distant and shaky as he retreated to go back down the stairs.

"Manny," Boone called, but his friend kept walking.

When the door to the Dino Bite shut carefully, _too_ carefully, Boone's throat closed up.

Part of him wanted to follow Manny, to pound on his door until his friend let him in. To demand that he understand that Boone's relationship with the courier wasn't anything like their friendship, even after nearly a year of it having been spoiled irreparably. They'd had something special once, long ago.

But then if he did that, Boone would have to explain that the reason he was following this ominously-named courier was that he fully intended to commit suicide, and he didn't want Manny to try and stop him in this. Because although he knew Manny's intentions were good, Craig didn't _want_ to "get help".

He wanted to stop existing.

Manny wouldn't want to be Boone's friend any more if he knew that Craig had murdered Carla and innocent children. Nobody would.

Even though everyone had seen the Bill of Sale and Boone had guessed correctly that no one would be hostile against him for killing the traitor Jeannie May, he knew they'd hate him if they were aware of the full truth of what he'd done. Best for him to leave Novac and never return, let the mysterious Lilith take him to his end.

So Boone let Manny avoid him while he went around and said goodbye to everyone that evening, and later when he left with Lilith he looked up at Dinky's mouth to see a shadow duck out of sight.

 _Goodbye, Manny,_ Boone thought wretchedly, knowing that no apology he could give his ex-best friend would ever be sufficient enough for how he'd treated the man.

_It's better this way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ending this section of the story here since it will get a lot less violent from here on out. There WILL be more of this, just not sure exactly what direction I want to go with it yet and whether or not I want the actual ship here to be Boone/Vargas or Boone/Male OC. The relationship between Boone and Lilith will definitely remain platonic though in case you were wondering.
> 
> Any feedback is wonderful as always, thanks for reading!


End file.
